


Angels on the Moon

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, One Direction, Zarry - Fandom, zayn malik - Fandom
Genre: Harry Styles - Freeform, M/M, Zayn Malik - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn was just too beautiful and too young.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels on the Moon

_**A/N: Right, this is actually my first time writing something this emotional, so please be easy on me! This was prompted from a girl on Wattpad, so I'll put the link of this exact one shot that I put on Wattpad incase you want to see the prompt (I advise you not to read the prompt before the story, it's a big ass spoiler.... obviously)** _

_**Anyways, I cried a fucking river while writing this long piece of crap that didn't end up like I wanted it to, but that doesn't change the fact that I want you to cry with me because WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF?!?** _

 

  He didn’t choose this. He never wanted to feel this way towards someone who he knew would never even give him a second glance if they were strangers. But it happened. And he couldn’t help it. He loved him. Zayn. There was just something about him. The way he used to strut around the halls like it was a church and he was god. His twinkling brown irises that would always watch Harry with such amusement when he did something stupid or said something naughty. And the smirk that was destined to follow right after. It was so playful and evil, and everyone fell for it within a second. Then it was the laugh. It was so contagious, that if he would start by simply giggling the whole class would be in fits within a second -even the teacher.

  No matter how much Harry tried, getting over the tan skinned beauty was harder than swimming all the oceans. And late at night when everyone was long asleep he would sit in bed and listen to a song or two. Most of them would remind him of Zayn. Why was it that the people in the songs always knew  _exactly_  how you felt? Each line reminded him of the past. Like going through a photo album, the memories started flooding in one by one. 

  _ **Oh, thinkin' about all our younger years**_  
 _ **There was only you and me**_  
 _ **We were young and wild and free**_

   _Footsteps echoed in the hallway and the silence was interrupted by the loud obnoxious laughter of two teenage boys. Right behind them was a full grown man, running after them with fury and no trace of entertainment._

_But the man was too old to keep up with them, so in a matter of minutes he was long lost. The boys were already used to this. Running away from teachers. Other kids in school found it immature and rather irritating, but they didn’t care. If anything it only amused them even more._

_“Did you see his face?” Zayn barked when they were in a fine distance from school._

_“He was so angry.” Harry giggled,_

_“Looked more like he was taking a shit.” Zayn said, and one look was all it took for the both of them to start laughing like mad men once again, this time letting themselves slowly leaning their heads closer, slightly laugh-crying on each other’s shoulder._

_“That one was brilliant, man.” Harry told the other one, biting his lip to stop the slow chuckles that still threatened to make their way out. “How did you even think that one out?”_

_“Well the pictures of his… lovely wife, were just laying there on the table, alone and sad, so I thought that it wouldn’t hurt to do a little spicing up, if you know what I mean.” Zayn said, winking at his friend to make sure that what he was talking about got through. And as usual Harry couldn’t contain a small giggle. It wasn’t necessarily because he found the naughty thoughts funny or anything. It was just the cute look on Zayn’s face when he closed his eyes and winked that sent Harry blushing and giggling like a madman._

_How Zayn hadn’t already realized that Harry fancied that pants off him was ridiculous. Maybe it was because he came from a society where people would hug for no reason at all and make silly little love stories about each other just for laughs, or maybe it was just because he had known Harry every since he came out of his mothers womb, so it was kind of just written in the stars that they would get along. But nonetheless he was a bit weird for not noticing the love eyes Harry would unconsciously send him in the middle of class, or the obvious checking out he would do when Zayn took off his shirt or any piece of clothing. And the times that the Bradford boy actually noticed it he laughed it off, telling the other one that he was a pervert._

_And Harry would’ve done anything to make Zayn realize that he liked him much more than he should, but there was just no way to say it. And if he every found a single way he could possibly get it out without the other one flipping he knew that he would get too scared and stupid to actually do it. Because believe me when I say that he had tried. Because he really had. But every time he got to the scary part he changed his mind, giving his speech a big plot twist which would probably result in play fighting and laughing. Because those two things kind of summed up how they acted all the time._

_A small flame lighted up from beside him, and he looked over to his friend who had a cigarette balanced between the gap of his mouth, and the fire coming closer to the butt of it. And this time Harry didn’t scold him for it, instead just sending him a very unimpressed look, but keeping his lips closed and quiet._

_“Stop giving me the stink-eye.” said Zayn as he moved the fag from his lips, blowing out the smoke in perfect strings._

_“It’s better than actually telling you to stop smoking.” Harry pointed out, smartly, and the other male really didn’t like his cocky mode._

_“How about you mind your bloody business?” Zayn muttered to himself, but Harry caught it. He always did. And he was getting so used to it that all he did was roll his eyes and keep walking instead of letting himself hurt and get all sad and depressed. Because no one liked such a pussy._

_They kept walking in silence for the rest of the way, but when they got to the place destined -the attic in Harry’s house that his mom didn’t actually realize he knew of- they forgot all irritation at each other and started talking about everything in between Pluto and the Earth. Because that’s just how their relationship worked. It was careless and easy going, never any drama or fighting occurring, instead only laughter and their occasional deep sessions_.

_**it isn't too hard to see,** _   
_**we're in heaven** _

  That year, at the age of fifteen, was the first year he realized the struggle he went through every day. It does sound dramatic and over exaggerated, but that’s how he saw it.

  I mean sure, he had known that he had a crush on Zayn for a long time, but he hadn’t realized that it was far above from the point of being only a crush. But what tore him up the most was the fact that he didn’t even tell Zayn how he felt. He kept it bottled up in side because his own fear was eating him alive. And now he could feel it all come back as he skipped that song, not wanting to hear a word of it again.

_**I don't wanna waste the weekend** _   
_**If you don't love me pretend** _   
_**A few more hours then it's time to go** _

   _”So, Harry, truth or dare?” the dark haired male asks with a wide smirk, and Harry couldn’t keep the fear away as he looked deep into the others eyes, gulping loudly._

_“Truth.” he answered, trying to keep his voice strong and together, and thankfully it all worked._

_“Bro, why do you always chose the boring answer?” the other one asked again, frowning a tiny bit. Because he liked challenges. He liked trouble. And that is why Harry found himself in a club at 1 AM, playing truth or dare with his friend who was drunk off his ass._

_When Harry had been dragged there he had protested endlessly about how his mom was going to find out, how they were only sixteen and not allowed to drink -how it wouldn’t be pretty. But Zayn had just shook his head and told him that they were going. In the end Harry gave up, this is Zayn we’re talking about, he is the only man on earth who could get anyone to do anything at any moment, any time, and any age. It’s been his special power every since they were little. And now it was causing more trouble than it ever had._

  _“…or Cassie?” the drunk male asked, and Harry was quite confused. Maybe he had zoned out too long this time._

_“What?” he asked politely, waiting for Zayn to react._

_“Ugh, never mind.” the other replied, angrily going away to the girl he had been talking to before and staring at ever since. If you’d ask Harry he would tell you that he didn’t think this girl was worth to look at, at all. She had on too much makeup, wore a dress that was a few sizes to small, and her platinum blond dyed hair was starting to make his eyes ache from pain. And if that wasn’t enough Zayn also told him that her name was Ashley, which was probably the most overrated name in the world. Too many people shared it._

_But maybe Harry just felt that way because he was jealous. Ashley was probably a very beautiful name, and the girl was probably very good looking, but in Harry’s eyes she was his worst nightmare coming to life. But of course Zayn didn’t agree with him on that one, as he started whispering something in the girls ear, causing her to giggle._

_He looked back at Harry with a smirk and started guiding the girl out the door._

_“I’m escorting this lovely lady home!” he called out to his friend, winking, but Harry was completely frozen on the sopt, sitting at the table with an full beer bottle that he didn’t plan on opening. “And remember, DON’T BE A DINGBAT!”_

  _With one last smile he left with that woman that -mind you- looked like she was somewhere in her early thirties._

_“Great.” Harry muttered. He was so far from being able to_ get _Zayn that instead of getting closer with him they started slowly getting more distant with each other. Yippy fucking yay._

_Later that evening, when Harry was on his way home after finishing the beer he promised he wouldn’t even touch, a familiar voice echoed around the empty neighborhood._

_“HARRY!” the voice called, and the curly haired boy immediately slowed down his walk and turned around, only to be met with a happy looking Zayn._

_“What are you grinning at?” the one called asked, and the smile on Zayn’s face went wider._

_“Well, it turns out that Ashley is quite the stalker.” he explained, and Harry raised his eyebrow in total confusion._

_“And that is a good thing because….?” Harry asked, not quite understanding what the flying fuck_   _his friend was talking about._

_“Because she supposedly looked through my jacket and found my real ID. So basically, long story short, she realized that I am a sixteen year old teenager and not a sexy stud in his mid twenties.” Zayn told him, giggling with each word which was still a complete mystery to the other one. Maybe it was just the alcohol making Zayn do all the things he did. “I was actually quite flattered at first, but then Ashley rudely pushed me out of her apartment because she thinks that I am ‘a immature kid who she never wants to see again’. So she is quite the bitch.”_

_A laugh left Zayn’s mouth again, and this time Harry joined in. Only Zayn._

_Only Zayn would laugh when a girl kicks him onto the street for being too young. Normal guys would blush furiously, and definitely not tell their friends because of how awkward it was, but Zayn thought it was so highly amusing that he didn’t even realize how embarrassing it was for him. And that was one of the reasons Harry loved him._

_“You know, this is why I’m happy to have you, Hazza bear.” Zayn explained, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulder, and shit, Harry might just have had an orgasm there on the spot. “Because you are a guy. And guys are cool. You know? We don’t have complications or drama. There’s just you and me. The two lone foxes.”_

_“Don’t you mean wolves?” Harry asked, having heard that sentence many times._

_“Nope.” the other replied casually, keeping a straight walk -or at least attempting to. “Foxes man. We are foxes.”_

_“And why is that?” asked Harry, because last time he checked Zayn hadn’t been_ that _drunk._

_“Because foxes are sexy, Harry.” Zayn told him, in a voice that made it come across like he was trying to teach something to a child._

_“Aren’t wolves sexy too?” curly asked, wanting to get to the bottom of this. He felt like this would be the perfect thing to use against Zayn for blackmailing. And plus, Zayn had technically just called him sexy. So who was he to be all depressed and boring?_

_“Not AS sexy.” Zayn said, and that was the end of the conversation. Harry knew that. Because he knew Zayn that well.’_

_**I was praying that you and me might end up together** _   
_**It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert** _   
_**But I'm holding you closer than most 'cause you are my heaven** _

  He didn’t know  _why_  he was doing this to himself. The memories would just do him even worse than he already was.

  But there was nothing he could do. They were uncontrollable and out of order. They kept shooting back at him like some fucking boomerang, and it aimed straight at his chest as his mind reversed back in time once again.

****_The long and winding road  
that leads to your door_   
****_Will never disappear_

   _Harry had no idea how it happened. But suddenly it seemed like Zayn knew more than he let on. And it was scaring Harry. Because he was being distant. And he acted like nothing was going on, but in a way he knew that Harry had realized how he was being. They knew each other that well._

_When Harry called it seemed like Zayn was always busy. When the other would ask what he was doing he would either too quickly or too slowly blabber out a reply, his tone saying that he was somewhat hopeful that the other would believe him. And of course Harry didn’t, but he nonetheless acted like he did. Because he was a good friend._

_But it went on for months, and before he knew it they were both seventeen._

_The year before had been Harry’s favorite. The two of them got so many memories from it. Endless. Either sneaking out, or getting into trouble, going out together for mini adventures, or simply just cooking marshmallows. All these things made Harry want to smile since they were so small, but so important to him. But he wanted to cry at the same time, because he knew that Zayn probably didn’t remember even one of them. The only thing he might have remembered was their night out meeting Ashley. Because it didn’t matter when or where, Zayn would always take a good and long time to laugh._

_Not that it mattered anymore. Because Harry was realizing that Zayn wasn’t only becoming distant from him, but also closer to others. And Harry would’ve accepted that, and been happy for his friend, but he couldn’t. Because these new friends of his weren’t just any normal crew of kids. They were the drug dealers. The ones that loved nothing more than getting people into trouble. They smoked everywhere, they did anything they liked, and worst of all was that they would usually just take a crack at a guy like Zayn and laugh until he got hurt and would go away, so the fact that they were acting all friendly and nice got Harry very suspicious. But nonetheless sad. Were these guys really more exciting to hang out with than Harry? Was he getting that boring? Did Zayn hate him that much? Those kind of questions are the ones Harry bathed himself in for those couple of months. And it only got worse and worse._

_But that didn’t mean Harry would give up. He wasn’t letting his friend go that easily. So he tried the best he could._

_He looked over to where Zayn stood with the druggies and thought his plan through before slowly moving in the direction of Zayn and the guys._

_The couple of them seemed to be having a great laugh, including curly’s friend, but when Zayn noticed Harry move his way over to him all happiness vanished from his face, and a trace of what looked like fear replaced it instead._

   _When Harry reached them he could almost feel the horror radiating from Zayn, and he wanted to run away. This idea had been horrible._

_The other guys didn’t seem to be thinking the same. Because they were smiling widely, looking the newcomer up and down._

_“So this is the fag, ay?” one of them asked, Zayn slightly cringing. Harry felt the fear bottle up inside himself this time, looking at them with wide eyes and not sure how exactly they knew that._

_“The one crushing on Zayn?” another one of them said. Harry looked over at his friend in alert only to find guilt written all over his face. What was going on…?_

_“Isn’t he the same one who Zayn is trying to avoid?” the first one spoke again, and that really made Harry sick. He didn’t want to believe them. But it made sense. It really did._

_“’Sorry, mom is putting me on house arrest’.” one of them mocked, voice sounding freakishly like Zayn’s, and when Harry took a moment to think about the time he told him that over the phone before hanging up in hurry._

_“’I have to babysit my little sisters’” a third one said, laughing like a hyena afterwards. “How dumb can a person be? I mean, you do realize that Zayn’s youngest sister is like 10 or 11, right? They don’t need babysitting anymore. Moron.”_

   _And wow, how stupid was Harry? All these things Zayn had said, they were all just loads of shit that didn’t even make the slightest sense. And the reason Zayn had been ignoring him. He had realized it. Realized that Harry was gay. And not just gay for anyone, but gay for him. But that was not the only thing Harry realized. Because soon it ran up to him that the guys must have been there with Zayn when Harry had been calling. They had heard everything._

_Harry had been on the verge of breaking into sobs then and there (because he is a really sensitive fellow). He didn’t dare look at Zayn, knowing that if he did he wouldn’t be able to control it. So instead he turned around as fast as he could and ran away. Yeah. Ran away like a little bitch. And he could even hear the guys behind him screaming ‘cry baby’ or ‘aw, does the little girl need some tissues?’. And he officially felt like he had just ruined his own reputation for a moment._

_But his footsteps weren’t the only ones who echoed in the hallway. He didn’t want to turn around, because he didn’t want to get disappointed. Disappointed in the fact that the kid running was probably just some junior. But as the footsteps came closer he got more fearful. Because he wanted it to be Zayn, but at the same time he didn’t even want to think of the boy. He wasn’t sure if he would handle it._

_“Harry.” the voice called desperately. And he would’ve kept running. Just if he hadn’t remembered that voice from so many times. It was always his name running from the others lips. Always when they were in desperate need, it was always his name. Never ‘wait’ or ‘I can explain’. Always ‘Harry’._

  _If he hadn’t stopped at that moment to think about this whole thing he probably would’ve been able to outrun the other one. But the shock of hearing his name said in that voice again was strong, just like the night of Ashley. And somehow he slowed down. He didn’t know how or_ why _, but he did. And once he did the tears came flowing. He stumbled on his feet, but Zayn caught him before he could fall. And the other brought him in a fight embrace._

_“I’m sorry.” he whispered, voice broken and full of pain and guilt. “I’msorryI’msorryI’msorry.”_

_He kept repeating those two words while keeping Harry close, letting his fingers run through the hair of the sad boy._

_Harry honestly had no idea why he didn’t run. Why he didn’t push Zayn away. He should be screaming at him, hitting him, doing anything but this. But he just couldn’t. He was too weak. And he knew it. There were people out there who had real problems, and there he was crying because his friend got tired of him. He wanted to kick and yell and give the whole world a big ‘fuck you’ but he couldn’t. He was paralyzed by Zayn’s touch. Because no matter how angry he was at the other boy, he would always end there, in Zayn’s arms._

_**I've seen that road before** _   
_**it always leads me here** _   
_**Lead me to your door** _

  And that’s the end of the story. They lived happily ever after, were best friends forever with no other problem in their lives.

  ....That’s how it should’ve gone. They had enough problems in their lives to last a whole decade. But a thing you need to know about life is that it’s never fair. So that is why this next part would be the hardest to remember. The one that pained Harry to the core. Because that was the day he lost it all.

_**Don't tell me if I'm dying** _   
_**'Cause I don't wanna know** _   
_**If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go** _

  _“What?” a vulnerable Harry stammered out. What he was hearing didn’t make sense. Only two months had passed since Zayn had begged Harry to take him back. And it wasn’t necessary. Not at all. But Zayn didn’t care. He had been at his feet, pleading for forgiveness. Saying that he was okay knowing that Harry was gay, and that he would always love him for being the friend he is. But Harry didn’t see the point in all that, because what Zayn was telling him now brought them back to level one._

_Zayn was getting back to those guys. The ones who had ruined the whole friendship for that year. And he didn’t seem to be the slightest bit of guilty for doing it. And Harry was just starting to realize how ridiculously mad his friend was. He could make one single decision, and when he did he always chose the wrong one. Because Zayn still felt like he had to prove himself, and there was only one way to do it -and it was not an easy one. Or a doable one. And Harry was on the verge of walking up to those guys and ripping their throats out. Not because they were taking Zayn away from him, because Zayn had already made it clear that he was not giving up on him again, but he was mad because what they were asking Zayn to do was basically impossible. He couldn’t do that. Or, at least that’s what Harry hoped._

_“You heard me Harry.” Zayn said quietly, looking on the floor. Just anyway but him_

_“Don’t do it Zayn!” he desperately pleaded. “Please, don’t be dumb. Listen to me. It’s going to get you into so much trouble. You could go to prison. No, if you do it you_ will  _go to prison.”_

_“I'm sorry Harry, but I can‘t have people treating me like that. Treating_ us _like that.” Zayn said, trying to get Harry to understand the impossible. “And the only way we’ll be able to do that is if I do this. I wont get into prison! I promise! This is completely fool proof! And you know I can do it! You know that I’m not stupid enough to fail a task like this, don’t you?”_

_Shit. This is what Harry had been waiting for. The ‘don’t you trust me’ trick. Because he couldn’t say no to that. He just couldn’t._

_And as those big caramel brown eyes looked into his he knew that it was over. Zayn had already won. Harry wouldn’t be able to stop it._

_“I-I trust you Zayn.” he finally gave in, and Zayn smiled encouragingly at him, drawing him in one of his famous hugs before continuing going through the day casually, not mentioning it again. And honestly Harry didn’t know if it was a bad or a good thing. The only thing he knew is that something didn’t feel right. But once again he wasn’t a strong enough person to argue with the other for any longer. It wasn’t worth it because he was too weak._

_Harry hadn’t planned on following Zayn. He just saw Zayn leaving his house, looking very nervous. All of the things Harry remembered as his stress habits were there. He was playing with his lighter and smoking at the same time, running his hands through his dark hair, while taking a few deep breaths here and there, some of them shakier than usually._

_He walked down the familiar street, and Harry could feel the pit of bad feeling worsen in his stomach, and he almost jumped out from far behind him and stopped him from doing it. But of course, like every other responsible thing he could have done, he didn’t._

_He had no idea what happened, but suddenly he had lost Zayn. How was that possible? He was only a few meters behind him. And this was already getting bad. He could feel his stomach going in circles around each other, creating a horrible sensation that made him want to puke. But he couldn’t. He had to find Zayn._

_He rushed around the town to find the small pet shop Zayn had been destined to be on, but before he cold turn to the street he could smell it. The smell of smoke. And then I don’t mean like the smoke from a cigarette. It was the smoke from something being on fire. And much fire there was._

_Harry ran quicker than he had ever, tears starting to run down his cheeks faster than cars in a race. And when he was standing there, right in front of the pet shop, he let out a choked sob and looked around. Zayn was nowhere in sight. He started panicking. But before he got far with it he could see flames licking their way over the furniture and cabins full of animals’ best food and snacks. But he didn’t care about that. Because he knew that there was no way that Zayn could have ran down the street on either side, and those two were the only ways._

_“ZaynZaynZaynZayn.” he cried looking around for some trace of his friend, but nothing. So he turned to the pet shop that was bursting with flames and smoke, and why the fuck were there no people calling the police? Why was no one out here? **Why was no one helping?**_

_He looked inside again, and then it ran up to him. Zayn. Zayn was inside. That was the only way. Because when he had told the guys he would burn down the pet shop they told him that it had to be started from the inside. And Harry he knew, he just_ knew _that Zayn hadn’t made it out._

_“Fuck.” he said, his breath hitching in his throat, and the tears streaming faster. He had to go in there. That was no question. He would not let his best friend and the love of his life die on him._

_So he did it. For the first time in his life he decided to be courageous. He ran through the open door of which Zayn had gotten a custom made key for, and loudly coughed as soon as he stepped in. It was like hitting a brick wall. He was breathing in smoke so thick that it made him almost unable to see. And then there were the flames. The red flames that threatened to kill you if you such as moved one step. And the fact that Zayn was somewhere in there with the same thought was what kept Harry going._

_“ZAYN!” he yelled out in desperation, trying to look over the clogs of smoke, but he couldn’t see him. But somewhere in the distance there was a low grunt, and Harry’s heart started racing as he ran towards the sound, smoke choking him more with each second and in all his desperation he tried to cough it out, but the weight on his chest was getting heavier. But he wouldn’t give up._

_It was just like an angel had come and answered his prayer, because a sudden moment he saw something twinkle only a few meters away. Zayn’s watch._

_Harry ran towards the light, but when he reached it he let out a horrified scream._

_“Zayn!” he cried out and knelt down in front of the boy._

_He lay on the floor, trapped between one of the big shelves that had fallen on him, and a half of his side was burning with fire. And his face, it wall all in a one mess. But he was still breathing._

_Harry looked around quickly, feeling himself get drowsier with each moment, and his coughs were getting uglier and uglier. But he didn’t have time to think about that as he_   _noticed a small fish bowl on one of the shelves, and he ran to it, grabbed the bowl, and started pouring the water onto the boy beneath. He could see the fire slowly vanishing until the bowl was empty and now all that was left was an soaked Zayn on the floor trapped by the shelf, with flames all around._

_So Harry had to hurry up._

_He slightly knelt back to Zayn and lifted the shelf up, only to almost miss it again from his lack of power. But he got it up, and Zayn was no longer trapped. So now he had to get him out._

_He put his hands under Zayn’s body, and slowly started lifting him up, the flames were getting bigger and more threatening, but that only encouraged Harry. He had the other boy in his arms and slowly started moving through the whole mess._

_For some miracle of a reason Harry found the entrance on first try, and kicked open the door which had somewhere in the middle of this gotten closed.  
As soon ashe stepped outside all his power was drained away, and he collapsed to the ground, the unmoving Zayn falling with him._

_He had no idea how much time had passed, but a loud chain of coughs left the body beside him, and he sprinted up so he was on his knees, looking down as Zayn who now was at least awake. But barely._

   _And he looked horrible. His face was almost black from the ashes and was filled with cuts. Even his beautiful honey eyes didn’t have any trace of twinkle left. But looking down was even worse. It was all of Harry’s nightmares combined and coming to life. So the sobs that left his mouth were understandable._

_The other boy’s clothes were by now all black and shirt on half of his side ripped, but the skin under it was horrible. So much blood was coming out, and didn’t seem to be stopping. All the beautiful tan skin on his waist was one, and replaced with one large open wound that showed the bloody meat of the boy, and it looked like someone had peeled most his skin away. And if that hadn’t been enough then his whole upper chest was bruised a dark purple after the shelf, and Harry knew that he had in some way cracked his rib bones._

_The tears were unstoppable, but when he looked up at Zayn he was surprised to see him smiling._

_“I’m sorry for what I did to you Harry.” he said through the smile, his voice raspy as if someone had taken a sandpaper and scraped is vocal cords, but he nonetheless summoned most of his power looked adoringly up at the other lad. “Sorry for being a horrible friend. I was just so scared when I realized your feelings that I ran away. And you have no idea how sorry I am to know that I can’t be who you need me to be. Somebody to love. Because I just can’t be that person. I always imagined us, that we’d live happily ever after somewhere far in frenship land. But it can’t be that way if I keep holding you back, Harry. And for that I am really sorry.”_

_“How can you just say that Zayn?!” Harry yelled, not angry, but furious over the fact that Zayn was making him too hopeful. That maybe there was a chance that they’d both get out alive. But he knew that there was no chance for that ever happening “You- you’re-”_

_“Don’t.” Zayn whispered, pain flowing through his voice so bad that it started another round of sobs in Harry. “Don’t tell me.”_

_But the other didn’t listen._

_“Don’t you die on me!” Harry demanded angrily, watching his friend also start to fight his own tears._

_“I’m n-not dying!” he said brokenly, desperately trying to get the two of them to believe it. “Harry, I’m not about do die, okay? The ambulance will come, and I will go to the hospital, and it will all be alright! We can be the two musketeers again, just like when we were little, and-”_

_Harry had already closed his eyes, listening to every word the other said, but as soon as the voice stopped Harry’s eyes shot open._

_“And…?” he asked, looking at Zayn, but then he realized how awfully still he was, even though his eyes were open. But Harry could already sense what was happening. “No. Fuck. No. Zayn! ZAYN!”_

   _He desperately brought his hands up and started nudging his friend slightly, but nothing happened. He kept doing so for god knows how long until he decided that this was not the right way to do it. He moved his head down to his best friends chest, and listened. He shut every other sound out and focused on nothing but his chest. He searched for the heartbeat, but was left empty handed. So he moved away and let his two fingers move to his pulse. Nothing happened._

_The tears were starting to dribble down faster and faster as he tried to pinch himself, do anything to prove that it wasn’t a dream. But it wasn’t working. Every time he opened his eyes he was met with the same horrible sight. And it was terrifying. He kept muttering_ no _again and again but before he knew it he was yelling. It just couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not today. Not EVER._

_He looked down at his lifeless best friend, the love of his life, his family. And for once he was more useless than he had ever been before._

_He slowly reached down and closed the others eyes. He looked more peaceful like that. It felt more like he was asleep._

_Suddenly Harry could hear a sound of a police car and a ambulance, but it was unneeded. They were too late. There was no way to save him now. He was gone from Harry, and this time it was forever. Harry could never ever see him smile or frown. He could never her his contagious laugh again. He could never see the twinkle in his eyes again. He could never admire his looks and silly humor. He had no reason to laugh anymore, no reason to smile, no reason to act like a complete idiot. Because for that you needed a friend. And Harry just lost the only one he had ever had in his_   _life. His buddy from birth. His first and last love. His best friend. His Zayn._

_**Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming**_  
 _ **Of angels on the moon**_  
 _ **Where everyone you know**_  
 _ **Never leaves too soon**_  

  The tears streamed down Harry’s cheek like a waterfall as the memories came to life. It was as clear as a DVD playing, and he could remember every single detail about it. Just like he remembered everything the two had ever done. Even if it was just a simple trip to Nando’s. He remembered it all. And it was eating him alive. But the story was just starting. The next chapter had yet to start. And that next party of his story had been the worst weeks, months, years, of Harry’s life.

_**Of all the money that e'er I had** _   
_**I've spent it in good company** _   
_**And all the harm that e'er I've done** _   
_**Alas it was to none but me** _   
_**And all I've done for want of wit** _   
_**To memory now I can't recall** _   
_**So fill to me the parting glass** _   
_**Good night and joy be with you all** _

_**Of all the comrades that e'er I had**_  
 _ **They are sorry for my going away**_  
 _ **And all the sweethearts that e'er I had**_  
 _ **They would wish me one more day to stay**_  
 _ **But since it falls unto my lot**_  
 _ **That I should rise and you should not**_  
 _ **I'll gently rise and I'll softly call**_  
 _ **Good night and joy be with you all**_  

   _Have you ever been there to see someone you love being buried? Have you seen them laying completely still in a coffin with clean white sheets and a well sowed suit? Because it is the worst thing a person can every go through. The person lying in the coffin almost looks like a whole other person then the one you know. They look somewhat fake. Like they’re made of wax. And when you touch their skin you can feel something colder than ice. It gives you chills all the way to the deepest marrow of your bones._

_And all the unfamiliar faces who stand there, dressed all fancy and black, and you can’t help but wonder ‘who are these people?’. They all stand there in a row, waiting for their turn to say their goodbyes to the passed one._

_One by one they said their byes, each time pointing out how tragic his death was and how horrible it was that he had to leave them so soon. And Harry seriously wanted to go over there and kill those people. He would gladly trade one of them for his friend back._

_When it was finally his turn everyone stood back, watching. Because he was the young boy who lost his best friend. His only friend. But Harry didn’t let the people bother him._

_He looked down at his friend at his beautiful face that was now all drained of color. His jawbones were almost unnoticeable, but his long eyelashes were still there. He took a few deep breaths before he would speak._

_“Hi, Zayn.” he said, not completely sure what to say or do. “Remember when you used to think that you looked weird in a suit? All fancy and not cool? Well I said that you were wrong, that I honestly thought you looked amazing in whatever you wore. And I wasn’t lying. You are one hell of a magic man. Anyways. Those people told me that I had to say goodbye to you. I asked them if they were all crazy. Because there is no goodbye. You’re not gone. Not from my heart. Nor from the files at the principals office. I remember when we’d run down the hallways, trying to escape from our least favorite teachers after playing a trick or two on them. We would both laugh and laugh and laugh till we were out of breath, which was when we would usually call each other an idiot or a wanker.”_

_Harry took a pause, taking a deep breath in and trying to avoid all the stares of pity he was getting._

_“I still remember everything we did.” he continued, letting the tears run down. “All the tricks we pulled, all our adventures. Just everything. And you have been gone for a few days now -eight, to be exact- and I miss you more than ever. I have no idea what to do anymore. I can’t just walk around and pretend it’s okay. Because it’s not. Its so far away from being okay that I don’t even know how to explain it. I don’t really know how to do_ anything _now. And I know that if you were here you would be laughing at me and telling me that I am ‘such a girl’, and I know its true. Because honestly, I have no idea what to do without you. Zayner, Bradford bad boi, bestie -all those names I used to call you- I can’t believe that I’m saying this, but it’s got to be done. You have no idea how much I will miss you man. And I still start to dial your number every time I wake up, but then I realize that you probably wont answer.”_

_People were now sobbing with him and listening to his heart-wrecking speech._

_He took a moment to breath and could feel Trisha’s hand softly on his back, but he had to say this._

_“Zayn, buddy-” he started, breaking into a loud sob. “I have to say goodbye. This is the last time I will see you, and I have no idea what to say. I just, I will miss you. Bye, Zaynster. I love you.”_

_He reached up and ran his hand through the smooth hair for the last time, gave him a kiss on the forehead and slowly stood up, not being able to control his emotions anymore, breaking down into loud sobs. It was horrible. People were all doing their best to make the teenager stop crying, but it was impossible. The tears just came running down and couldn’t stop._

_His parents and sisters were of course last, all giving the body of Zayn Malik a little speech before they all moved to Harry, involving him in their group hug because to them he was family. They had come to love him as their own son, their own brother. So seeing him like that was horrible. But it would only get worse. Because the priest came up and started reading a few words from the Quran -since Zayn and his family was Muslim- but then came the time._

_The priest moved to the coffin, said his blessings and closed the it. Harry’s hand came flowing to his mouth to hold back the sobs that were threatening to leave his mouth. That was it. The last time he would ever see Zayn. His best friend and the one he loved. And the moment he realized that his tears only came down faster._

_But then is was time to actually bury him. A few males in his family were the ones who carried the coffin to where his gravestone would be._

_Before he knew it the coffin was being lowered down until it was at the complete bottom, with a floral wreath on top with the letters ‘Zayn Malik’ in both English and Arabic._

_A small coir of kids had gathered around and sung ‘The parting glass’ and Harry was doing everything he could to not let himself jump down after Zayn and make them bury himself with the other male._

_That day was the single most hardest day Harry ever had to go through in his whole life._

_**A man may drink and not be drunk**_  
 _ **A man may fight and not be slain**_  
 _ **A man may court a pretty girl**_  
 _ **And perhaps be welcomed back again**_  
 _ **But since it has so ought to be**_  
 _ **By a time to rise and a time to fall**_  
 _ **Come fill to me the parting glass**_  
 _ **Good night and joy be with you all**_  
 _ **Good night and joy be with you all**  _ 

  And that was it. The last time Harry saw Zayn. He was still waiting for the day he would wake up and realize that it was all a nightmare, but that was just too good to be true. Because not everything ends happily every after.

  Harry was gone far through memory lane. Never had he ever relived all that in one day, and he really wish he hadn’t. The tears In his eyes would always return when he thought about Zayn. And sometimes, when he was unfortunate, it would happen in school.

_**She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette** _   
_**She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget** _

  _School for him ever since the loss of Zayn was hell. Everyone who had hated them before, or told them they were annoying, suddenly cared. They all came up to him and said ’sorry for your loss’ or ’Zayn was a great boy’ like he didn’t already know that. Because he knew better than anyone how amazing Zayn had been. So he decided that he wouldn’t listen with any of them and their non-knowing minds. Instead he completely shut everyone out. He didn’t speak, he barely looked at people, and he avoided being close to them as he possibly could._

_And soon enough his style changed too. He stopped wearing all the fancy colored hoodies and replaced them with anything black he could find. And the same goes to his pants. He completely have up on his curls. They made him look too happy and bubbly. So instead he wore beanies over them, and occasionally hoodie to cover the beanie just to be sure._

_And he found himself at the bar a few times a week. And when I say_  the _bar then I mean_ the bar _he had gone to on that first night with Zayn. Except now he was alone. And boy, did he drink. He started coming home drunk of his ass, leaving his mother more worried than she had ever been in her whole life, and when he started locking himself in his room all day and all night she finally broke down. Because there was something wrong with her baby, and that’s what no mother liked to hear._

_But little did she know that inside that room was just a lonely kid. He had searched all around his own and the Malik’s house to collect all the images of him that he could find and photocopied them. Then when he got back in his room he would look through the pictures and let himself cry when he saw the face of his best friend. There were photos of him from when he was only one day old to the last pictures ever taken of him. And those were the ones Harry treasured the most._

_**But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind** _

  Why did life work like that? Why were there rapists and murderers out there, but his Zayn was not? Who decided that it would be okay to take the only thing Harry had away from him?

  He had a theory of who it might be. These boys. The boys that made him burn the shop down that night. If they hadn’t dared him, or if he hadn’t listened, he would still be alive. Probably with Harry that exact moment. But he wasn’t alive and sure as hell wasn’t with Harry.

   ** _Say something awful, as if fucking the world is your right._**

  Harry wasn’t quite sure when he got to that point. The point where he was absolutely out of it. But he was gone so far down the road of depression that he didn’t really have the sense to think about how mad this all was. 

  Each day he would visit the graveyard and talk to Zayn. Or more like talk to the stone that had his name on. But never did he actually get an answer. He knew it was mad to believe that Zayn would just magically appear and everything would be good again, but thats why Harry kept believing it.

  He thought that each time something completely unforeseen happened to him it was Zayn trying to somehow communicate with him. Like the moment his teacher was about to write on the blackboard, but he a note hit his hand causing it to twitch, and all that came out was a large ‘Z’. Or the time Harry was in class, completely about to drift off, and an old note fell out of his book. He remembered it perfectly. He and Zayn had been talking about the girl Zayn liked at the time. ‘ _should I ask her out?_ ’ was written in the most perfect writing that had ever been revealed to the world, but the rest had been ripped off by the teacher. Needless to say, Harry had a complete breakdown in class that day, and had to run out to calm himself down.

  But nobody understood him. They all just pitied him and his crazed mind. They thought that he had lost it once and for all. And Harry wanted nothing more to see them miss their best friend, the one they loved, and a family member all at the same time. Maybe they would get a trace of what he felt.

  But then were the teachers. At first they gave him time and made sure not to force anything on him, but after a month or two they had completely ignored that, and were back to treating him like any other trashy student. They asked him unnecessary questions and shit he didn’t care about. Which equaled everything. But even after months of trying, they still didn’t get the fact that he wasn’t going to answer, now or ever.

 

  

  “Harry, can you tell me the answer?” the teacher asks, same teacher as he and Zayn pranked all those years back. Although it didn’t really matter what teacher it was, he still didn’t want to even think about the words down on the page in the closed book placed in his backpack that he almost left home each day since he wouldn’t be any better with it there.

  So, as always, he didn’t give him an answer, instead staring at him with anger and waiting for him to move on to someone else.

  “Harry.” the teacher repeated, and just when Harry was going to yell out an answer, a curse word, the smell of cigarette smoke flooded in through the window. And all that could be seen in Harry‘s eyes was pain. Cigarettes reminded him of Zayn and his plumb lips as he would inhale the toxic and exhale the smoke, puckering those beautifull rosy lips to let it out. 

  “This isn’t even funny anymore.” he whispered to himself, looking up at the ceiling like Zayn would magically come flying down with a halo to help him get back on his feet. But of course he didn’t. He was dead.

  Harry had ignored all the voices encouraging him to come back to class as he stood up and walked out, because he had a place to be. Each time he got what he felt was a ‘sing from Zayn’ he would walk to the graveyard, in hopes of something happening.

 

  On the walk to his destination he stopped in the corner shop and got a pack of cigarettes. The ones Zayn always used to smoke. But it was only a small stop before he continued his way.

  As soon as he arrived to where he planned to go a loud sigh left his mouth. Because that was the one single place where he felt calm. The thought of Zayn and his warm smile relaxing his muscles and chilling down his mind.

  Harry always remembered what the grave was like, and it was not hard to find. The tombstone was so beautiful. It was made of stone, like the rest of them all, but the writing was made on a silver plate and of course the thing that made it the most important tombstone in the yard was the name ‘Zayn Javadd Malik’. The whole setup of it was perfect. Even the writing.

**Zayn Javadd Malik**

**1996-2013**

**“Only the good die young.”**

  It always brought tears to Harry’s eyes to see that familiar name written in a place like this, surrounded by dead people. But of course Zayn was dead too, so it wasn’t a surprise.

  Harry always took a few minutes to breathe deeply and calm down before he could start talking. To Zayn that is. But it was always -ironically- dead silent. And silence is a scary sound.

  “Hey, Zayn.” he started, smiling sadly to himself. “I’m here once again. Just can’t seem to get enough of it. I never have. Wasting my time on you has always been my weakness. But I’m not complaining.”

  He paused, picking up the packet of cigarettes from his jacket and slightly turning it around with his fingers.

  “I got your favorite.” he said, chuckling at how ridiculous this all was. “I’ve never understood why you never picked another brand. This one seems rather dodgy. But they’re cheap, so I guess you and your smart mind used that as your reason.”

  He slowly peeled on the plastic covering the small box, loads of warnings about how these would kill you and whatnot, but that didn’t seem so bad to Harry. At least it wouldn’t be a suicide.

  Smoking was something he had never done before, but now that Zayn was not around to keep him company with the smell it seemed like he had to do it himself. So he picked up one cigarette from the box and brought it to his own lips.

  “Cheers mate.” he said, taking up Zayn’s old lighter and lighting the end. He took a long and powerful drag, feeling the smoke fill up his lungs which was not so different from the fire in the pet shop. Except this one was comforting and smooth, and relaxed Harry in a matter of seconds. “I’m just going to let you know that I’m lighting this one for you. For your honor. I hope that wherever you are you can feel like it is you taking a drag after a long stressful day. At least that’s what you always used to do.”

  Another long pause came, and he used the moment to take another drag and snuggle into the black hoodie that once used to belong to Zayn. But now it was Harry's. Mrs. Malik had given him all Zayn's clothes and belongings, because she stumbled across an old note of Zayn's from first or second grade which said ' _When I die I want Harry to have all my stuff, because I love him and I know he will treat it right. Especially mini Batman._ '

  “School is still the same.” he spoke again, shrugging casually. “Lonely as fuck without my fellow prankster, but you know. I’m pretty sure that mom would get a heart attack if I would stop showing up in there, and I do not need more people around me dying. Losing you proved that.”

  A few silent tears slipped, and you would’ve thought that he had gotten used to it now after six months, but it still hurt him every single day. That didn't matter thought. He still kept coming to the graveyard. Like it was his own personal marijuana.

  “I wrote you a letter.” he continued, dragging a small crumbled paper with a few too many smudges from drops of what you’ve probably guessed what is. “So I’ll just read it to you as clearly as I can before I go back to school. I’m choking from hunger, if that makes sense whatsoever.”

  He laughed to himself, knowing that if Zayn were there he would be doing the same. Because he had always appreciated Harry’s awkward moments.

  “You‘re the only one who may ever hear or read this letter, so I‘ll make sure to burn it after I‘m done reading it. Then I‘ll probably just pour the ashes above your grave. And don’t worry, it will disappear into the grass so it‘ll still look good, just like everything else connected do you.” Harry said, muttering the last line slightly because this was getting too depressing. “Anyways. Here I go.”

“ _Hello Zayn this is Harry -obviously, I’m the one reading the letter.  
_ _The past few months have been worse than anything I ever imagined. It’s really lonely down on earth without you. There is nothing I can do because everything reminds me of you -I totally just rhymed. But seriously though. I miss you so unbelievably much. I can’t go to my favorite fast food restaurants, I can’t go out for walks in the woods, I can’t be close to your locker in school, I wont even go near your house anymore. And I know that your parents and sisters have already gotten over this and are still smiling and living their life, but how can I do that when you were my life. And I know that what I just said sounded so dramatic, but it’s true. You were by best friend, the love of my life and my family all at the same time.  And you still are. Yeah. I’m in love with a dead person, something must be really wrong with me. Anyways. You’re probably thinking that I should get over you. And it’s not that I can’t, its just that I don’t want to.  
_ _When people die in movies the plot always starts revolving around getting the main character to get over it. They’re told to forget the passed one. But why would I ever want to forget you? Because that’s not going to happen. I’m not forgetting you now or ever. No matter how much you might wish otherwise._

_You know, ever since you left I have been wondering what would’ve happened if you had listened to me. You wouldn’t have gone out that night, and you would still be here. So why did you do it? You were so young. Your life was only starting. And we made so many plans for the future. But now they’re all crashing down like a big fuck you to my face. Because such a young and beautiful creature and you didn’t deserve that. Man, I just miss your perfect personality, your beautiful twinkling eyes, these dark and long eyelashes, your pouty and kissable lips, your adorable -and freakishly perfect- nose, your smooth and tan skin, your perfect hair, your voice, your laugh, you smile, even your frown, the way you walked, the way you acted, your genius mind, your mischievous plans, your weird ideas, the way you always listened to my problems and helped. Did I mention that I miss you?_  
  
 _Now that we’ve got that part out of the way, how’s life up there? Wait, scratch that. I know that you’re probably too busy traveling to the moon with Michael Jackson. Or maybe you’re jamming with Bob Marley. Whatever you’re doing I really don’t want to interrupt it. Because doing those things used to be your number one dream.  
_ _So instead I’m going to call it a day. I’ll be back tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that one… you know the story. And now since I know how much you used to love the Breakfast Club I’m ending it with a style._

_Sincerely yours, Harry_

_p.s. I love you._

_p.p.s I miss you_ ”

 

_**A/N: This is it. The end of this long piece of shit. I hope you liked it. I was only satisfied with the sad parts. I discovered that I'm quite talented in writing sad things.** _   
_**Anywhore, I hoped you liked this, I hope you cried, and I really do hope that you have it in you to heart this or reblog. It means loads to me.** _   
_**And the small poem-ish texts that came before each flashback are actual songs (if you didn't already know that) so if I were you I'd check 'em out!** _   
_**Here:s the Wattpad link, if you're interested in the prompt:<http://www.wattpad.com/14733278-one-direction-one-shot%27s-slash-boyxboy-zarry>** _

_**Love you all! xx** _


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